


Marvel Minific Collection

by Imasupermuteant



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers Orgy, Drabble Collection, Fitzsimmons is a matched set, Hawkeye likes to watch, Multi, PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 16:16:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1517021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imasupermuteant/pseuds/Imasupermuteant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short fic written for various prompts! It's only slightly mostly porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. FitzSimmons/Tony Stark: Matched Set

**Author's Note:**

> This was written almost directly after I saw the first episode of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. and as such has almost no relation to actual canon for the show.

It’s Saturday night at the National Applied Sciences Conference and the club is  _hopping_. 

Well, the club isn’t exactly hopping.  The club is more… skipping than it is hopping?  Jiggling?

Alright the club is fucking dead but Tony has his eighth drink of the night in hand and that’s all that really matters. There might not be anybody on the dance floor but there’s a thumping something-or-other on the speakers and a few nobel-worthy scientists at the bar.

"A few" being four. Four scientists. And two of them are geologists. How do you even apply  _geology?_ What even.

Anyway, that’s how Tony finds himself sliding into the barstool next to the pretty brunette girl who gave that lecture on… Nanites? Cancer? Some kind of mechanized arm thing? Whatever. She’s cute.

Cute, and smiling at him, and definitely into him if Tony knows anything about drunkenly hitting on strange women. And he does know about that. He does.

"Hey." Tony says. It’s not his best line but it’s. Something? Smooth.  There. Yeah.

"Oh sweet jesus you’re Tony Stark." 

That’s. Not a woman’s voice?  British, sure but Tony is pretty sure that it’s not. 

Nope not a woman. There’s this twiggy guy sitting on the other side of the hot science lady and he’s looking at Tony like he freaking solved the energy crisis or some junk.

Tony probably  _did_  solve the energy crisis, considering the glowing thingamajig making the skin on his chest red and itchy. 

Point is that Stickguy Mctweedpants is shoving a hand in Tony’s face, and he now feels socially obligated to shake even though Tony  _hates_  shaking hand. But the cute what’sherscientificfield is covering a smile with her drink and Tony’s still got an in with her so he might as well make this evening count.  

"Simmons." Says the man. His grip is comfy. Not too firm, but not a limp fish either.  "Er. I mean. She’s Simmons. I thought you should know her name if you were going to be oggling her breasts." 

What?

"He’s Fitz." Is the first thing she says to him, tilting her head towards her… boyfriend? brother? symbiote? It’s hard to tell, "And you should ignore everything he says because he gets rude in the presence of hot geniuses." 

"I  _do not—_ I—  _Hot geniuses_?!” Fitz’s voice raises into a squeak at the end there and Simmons rolls her eyes.  

"Obviously you do," She says, letting her eyes scan over Tony’s body.

“ _Simmons_ _.”_ Her friend hisses, “Stop- stop just  _hitting_ on Tony Stark like he’s some kind of—”

"—I will do whatever I  _please_! And it’s not like you wouldn’t want to shove you’re hands down his pants given the opportunity, you—”

"—We’re not talking about putting anyone’s hands down anyone’s pants! Were you even aware of this man’s work in robotics? It’s frankly the most  _brilliant_ —”

"—You always want to do the brilliant ones _,_ I don’t see why we’re suddenly having a discussion about his work when’s he’s obviously here to get a leg over and  _we could be that leg_.” 

Their conversation devolves into a mess of overlapping whispers and Tony isn’t really sure what’s happening because he is drunk. Oh yes. Tony is drunk.  But it sounds like sex could happen?

"Um. Is sex going to happen? Because, like, I am really digging the way you guys talk really fast at the same time but that’s sort of  _my thing_  and I’m getting the impression that sex could be happening. You aren’t siblings are you?”

"No!" In stereo. Cool.

"Not cousins? fraternal clones? Not related in any way that might make me feel guilty tomorrow and/or get me arrested?"

"No." Says Fitz just as Simmons says, "We’re just friends."

"Well—" Fitz starts, and Simmons continues with "—friends isn’t really the right word. We’re more like…"

"…Like salt cellars!"

"Or teacups?" 

"Ummm…"

"Like things that go together. Like, uh—"

"—We’re a matched set, yeah?" 

Tony can work with that.  ”I can work with that.” He tells them with a grin.  Tony isn’t exactly not-open about being rabidly pansexual and that is one too many double negatives for him to be knocking his beverage back at that speed.

 ”Let’s go.” He says with a jerk of his head in the general direction of up. Which is, he assumes, also the general direction of his hotel room. They go.

Something blurs between the elevators and the removing of Tony’s shirt. He not sure if this is his bed or not but it’s  _a_  bed and the wonder twins are awfully,  _awfully_ interested in the arc reactor.  Like, interested with their tongues. 

"Is that palladium " Fitz asks with his lips hovering above Tony’s nipple. Tony groans out an affirmative and Simmons breathes "b _rilliant_ " as her teeth graze his clavicle.  

There’s a fuzzy moment where Tony wonders if he should be worried about their obvious interest in his wetware. But they don’t seem to care  _why_ or even _how_  there’s a high powered electromagnet embedded in his chest so much as they are absolutely delighted that it’s there.  Fitz is sort of muttering stuff about metal alloys and Simmons is talking over him about  _teeny tiny little dialysis robots._

"—Basically." Fitz says, interrupting himself mid-sentence, and Simmons continues with, "Basically we would very much like to blow you." 

"Oh?" Fitz says, "I thought we were going to do the…" He wiggles his fingers and Tony has  _no idea_  what sex act is best demonstrated by that motion but Simmons shakes her head. “No, we’re going to blow him.” 

"Alright then." Fitz agrees and they are sliding down— oh.  _They_  are going to blow him.   _They._ Plural pronoun. As in the two of them. Tongues fighting for dominance at the head of Tony’s dick. Two hand interlocking at the base.  _Oh._

"But after—" Simmons head pops up suddenly and she locks eyes with Fitz, pretty much ignoring the prescience of the body attached to the cock she was just fondling. "After this can we do the—"

Fitz wiggles his fingers and Simmons nods. They share a grin and Tony does not understand. But that’s fine because they’re back to business in no time and…

 _Oh_.  _Well_.  _Okay then_. 

* * *

 

Over the course of the next few years there are a a few new patents that bear a number of almost unnoticeable similarities to Tony’s designs. Tony’s a bit too busy with armored suits and aliens and Captain America’s firm pectoral muscles to notice.  He barely remembers that night at all, although for some reason he gets an erection every time he see jazz hands.  Weird. 


	2. Steve and Tony: Not Talking About It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: So Steve must’ve been kind of freaked out about the happenings in New York, what if he begrudgingly goes to Tony for advice, accidentally gives Tony a panic attack (since he has an even HARDER time dealing with the events of NY) and they have a tender moment together?

"I think it would probably be best if we just agreed to not talk about it. Don’t you? Of course you do. I’m glad we had this talk."

Steve sighed, feeling a pressure between his eyes that would have been  a headache a few years ago.  A _lot_ of years ago.  A lot of years and one incredibly effective procedure ago.  He was trying not to think about that.  _  
_

"Tony—"

"Yes I think that’s the best thing to do. In fact, why don’t we talk about something else. A _nything_  else. How are you liking… uh… synthetic fabrics? digital music? Internet porn? You have found the porn right I mean you’ve been awake in this century for a whole week—”

“ _Tony_.”

"Did I tell about that time in Afghanistan. There was a cave and it was really traumatic and—"

"I’m not going to interrogate you, Tony, I just want to discuss tactics with you calm down and sit down."  

Steve resisted the urge to massage his temples, keeping his calmest and most serious expression in place and the tension out of his voice.  The trick with Tony, Steve realized, was to never let him know he was getting to you. Tony could smell irritation the way wild animals could smell fear.

"I don’t want to do either of those things."

"It’s important for the team to evaluate—"  

"Nope."

"—What was and wasn’t effective so that next time—"

"Oh no. Definitely nope."

"—And I want to make sure that none of us ever need to pull another stunt like the one you—"  

“ _Okay shut up!”_ Tony shouted, the knife tumbling from his shaking fingers and clattering on to the floor. “Just— Just  _fucking._ Stop talking.”

He exhaled sharply, puffing his cheeks out with every breath and pressing a trembling hand against his arc reactor as he leaned against the counter top. 

"I have to go— go. I need to be somewhere else." Tony said, “I have a very important. Thing. A not here thing."

He seemed unable to catch his breath in a way that Steve remembered, vividly, from his pre-serum asthma attacks.  

Oh.   _Oh._

"Actually why don’t  _you_  leave, is that something that can happen?  _Now_?”

Tony hadn’t moved.  And Steve didn’t know what to do.  This wasn’t about Tony’s bizarre need to avoid talking about his role on the team or his impulse to do the opposite of whatever Steve suggested. This had nothing to do with Steve at all.  

"Okay. Okay Tony we don’t have to talk about it." Steve kept his voice from shaking and resisted the urge to apologize.  Apologies would happen once Tony had stopped hyperventilating.

"Saying we don’t have to talk about it  is  _a lot like talking about it_.” Tony hissed. He leaned forward until his head rested against the cool marble of the counter. 

"Alright. I hear you. I—" Steve hovered. Should he touch Tony? Would that make it worse? “Tony I need you to tell me what will help you."

“ _Fuck if I know_.” Tony huffed.

"Okay.  _Jeez._ Um.”

"Golly  _fucking_  jee-wizz to you too you little—” Tony cut himself off, pushing himself up from the counter to pace a few feet away.  

His breathing was a little steadier, being annoyed at Steve seemed to be at least a little effective as a distraction.   But Steve was starting to feel a bit shaky himself.  And there was really only one thing he could think of to help.

"Tony. I think— I’m going to hug you. If that’s okay. Is that okay?"

A moment passed and Steve was almost sure that the best option would be to leave Tony alone, but just as he was about turn for the door he saw Tony’s head dip in a nod.

Steve moved in slowly, ready to back away in an instant if Tony gave the word. His arms looped loosely around Tony’s shoulders, barely touching him until he felt Tony’s head flop forward onto his shoulder.  Damp sweat on his shirt collar and Tony’s arm sort of bumping his right hip in an attempt to reciprocate.

Someone exhaled slowly. 

"Well."

"Yeah."

They didn’t talk about it.


	3. Avengers Orgy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Avengers Orgy? Avengers Orgy. Everybody knows Tony is a pleasure slut. That shit's obviously canon. Hulk is surprisingly gentle. Captain America doesn't understand why this is happening. Thor doesn't understand why this doesn't happen more often. Natasha is unfazed. Hawkeye likes to watch. *wonk* (I mighta just written this for you. oops. oh well. doesn't matter had smut.)

Hawkeye likes to watch.  

Hawkeye _really_  likes to watch.  It’s sort of his thing, of course, and the first few times everyone lets it slide because Clint is sort of  neurotic and also there’s a lot going on. But after the fourth or fifth time where everybody is joyfully naked and rolling around together on the floor of the living room and Clint is  _still_  crouched up on top of  a bookshelf by himself well… This sort of thing just isn’t acceptable team behavior.

Steve informs him of this, standing stark naked with his hands on his hips, having literally  _whistled the orgy into a time out_  when he realized that Clint wasn’t participating.

“Um.” Clint says.  He’s the only one in the room still wearing clothes. Unless you count Thor’s… it’s not a thong. Clint does not count it.

“Nobody is pressuring you if you’d rather not participate, Clint, but I’m just saying that being a part of the team means you are allowed to join in with team activities.”

Captain America has just equated group sex with team building exercises and this is not even the weirdest thing that Clint has ever experienced.

“I don’t—” How to say, “I’m pretty good right here.”

“We can move into another room if you’re uncomfortable. Or we could just watch a movie.” Steve is standing in a mass of naked bodies with a full-fledged erection and is suggesting they all get dressed and  play connect four or something.

“Aw, Cap,  _no_.” Clint says. He should give cap a hug.  But that would mean getting down.

“You’re damn right  _no_.” Tony shouts from his place in Hulk’s lap.  ”Clint can go mope in his room if he wants to be a prude I’m finally getting some stats on the big guy’s package.”

“HULK WANT BLOWJOB”

“See?” Tony flaps his hand in the direction of Hulk’s junk, “We’re going to need at least three people to make this happen!”

“Every member of this team is important, Tony, and if Clint doesn’t want to join in we should respect his wishes.”

Clint isn’t sure what to say. There’s no way they’ll believe he’s happy with the way things have been going and if he joins everyone in the tangle he’ll miss the big picture.

It’s all about the big picture.

“Clint likes to watch” Natasha says finally, rolling her eyes at the lot of them.  ”He’s fine.”

Steve frowns. Clint remembers that Steve is still naked.  Even frowning and naked, Steve is still wholesome.

“I  _know_  he likes to watch but—”

“Clint would you rather go down on me or watch Steve do it?

“Watchstevedoit” It comes out in a single breath because all of the remaining blood in Clint’s body has rushed to his dick.

“There. Problem solved.” And Natasha is quirking an eyebrow at Steve and reclining back on to the couch expectantly. 

And if, maybe a few orgies later, Clint starts to call out suggestions from his lookout, nobody seems to take offense.  


End file.
